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Chapter 11
She wants him to know that she doesn't need him, and here she is crying into his arms like a child who's afraid of the dark. She hates him, she's sure of it. She promised herself she wouldn't do this, but she's just so god damn tired.
"Liv-"
Her anger comes back again. She pushes away from immediately and walks down the porch stairs, sitting down on them as he watches her.
Sometimes, you need to burn bridges to stop yourself from crossing them again.
"I can't believe I've been this stupid. I came three thousand miles and this is what happens."
A memory of an investigation comes to mind. An older woman had said never run back to whatever broke you.
"Liv" he says, bending down to her height, touching her shoulder
She swipes his arm off of her.
"You don't know me anymore, you just got up and left!"
"Just let me get a damn word in!" He says, his voice rising
Olivia gets up from sitting and has her back facing him.
"Can we just start over? Start over here, where we can just talk without fighting?"
She doesn't speak.
"Just come with me."
He steps down the porch stairs and walks past her, towards the street where her car is. A black jeep is parked across the street and he crosses it and gets into the car. Olivia stands in the middle of the sidewalk, arms crossed. She stares him down when he rolls down the window.
"You comin or not?" He says, using the smile he always had to persuade her.
"Fine, but the radio is all mine." She says
It reminded him of the days when she'd play her music in the car while waiting in the squad car. She'd play old eighties hits when he'd play rock and roll. They'd always argue over who got the radio first, who'd get the first shift of sleep. Who would get the coffee, who'd cuff the bastard they were after.
He drives through the area, driving through Golden Gate Park, letting the traffic slow them down. There's no conversation, just silence. She watches the jiggers with dogs pass them as they're stuck in traffic. They pass stow lake, where boats are being paddled by people. They get through the park and drive for another ten minutes.
It's a huge road with a barrier of ice plants, one side is exposed to the ocean and the other side is exposed to houses in front of the ocean front. A distance ahead, there's restaurants in sight, and then he turns into a lot of cars, and parks the jeep in front of a cement barrier. He gets out of the car and starts walking towards a break in the barrier, down stairs and onto the sand.
She sits in the car, watching his figure get smaller and smaller. Her footsteps guide her down the stairs and onto the sand. She's a good number of yards away from him. The water is lined with a few cargo ships, otherwise, calm. Just the sea, moving in and out, connecting to the land.
The seagulls scatter as he gets closer to the water. They regroup again and he knows they'll descend again. Something about habit. About the need to regroup. The water is loud as the small waves roll in. People are scattered, walking around, on the day that God decided to let the fog roll away, allowing the sun to hit his face, causing him to squint. He'd never have time to go to the shore in New York. His mother had told him once.
If you could just take a deep breath. Smell the ocean air. Feel the sun on your face. The wind. The sand beneath your feet.
The day is calm, and the sun is out, not obscured by any clouds. She's nearing him. She didn't bring her sunglasses out here, neither did he, and when he turns towards her, she is squinting at him against the sun.
"What the hell are we doing out here?" she asks, blocking the sunlight with the back of her hand.
"Jesus, Benson. You need a plan for everything don't you?"
He watches the salty air tangle her hair. He loves the way the sun radiates off her skin,a smooth olive color.
"Pretty much, so?"
He can't believe she is actually here. He can't recognize that they aren't together by the death, assault victims or rules. Not anymore. He left her, without telling her a single word. But that didn't mean he would not come back for her.
Elliot chuckles a bit, causing her to look up at him with frustration.
And you laugh like you've never been lonely. You laugh like there's hope in the story.
"Alright Stabler, what the hell? So I came three thousand miles, let's talk now."
She speaks with authority in her voice, as if she did when they were partners.
He is taking off his shoes, then his socks, and holds them in his hand. He gets closer to the shore, and starts walking in the wet sand, letting the waves close in on his feet as he walks parallel to the water. She walks near him, to his right, letting him be the barrier for her, protecting her from the cold pacific. It's a large enough gap to know she's distanced from him. She walks with him, but they don't walk in sync, not as they once were.
He stops and she stops as well. He let's the water cover his ankles. She steps back, letting the waves get sucked in again.
"When do you knows it over?" He asks quietly, looking at her crossed arms, her head looking down.
She always tried, but she lost something. She lost hope in him, in herself.
"When someone stops trying," she answers. "Or worse, when trying no longer works."
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